French Vanilla Creamer
by Lilacshadows
Summary: Kaoru Hitachiin has always loved coffee. French vanilla creamer, bitter coffee, fabric, and hot glue were the smell that dominated his childhood. And he would often spend nights in his mother's studio watching as she worked or sitting next to her as they drank coffee. Until the day they suddenly didn't.


**POV** : Kaoru Hitachiin

 **Disclaimer** : I do not own the rights to Ouran High School Host Club nor do I own the rights to any individual character or idea therein. I also do not have any legal rights to Nestlé's Nescafe instant coffee. However, the story is of my own original design and I hope you enjoy it.

French Vanilla Creamer

He had always loved coffee.

As children, he and Hikaru had often found themselves playing among mannequins and tall roles of fabric as their mother worked. She would measure and cut, pin and sow, flit about the studio from designer to designer to comment on their work or correct a mistake, all the while sipping coffee.

French vanilla creamer and bitter coffee mingled with the smells of the fabrics and glues to become a scent that was distinctly that of his childhood. It was the smell that always came to mind whenever he thought of his mother. Years later, he would stand at the studio his mother had once been head of, his own children running about, and inhale sharply at the wonder of it all. The scent that always seemed to hang in the air, the beautiful scent of French vanilla creamer and bitter coffee, expensive fabrics and melting glue.

They had been small children once, running among the mannequins, getting underfoot, and marveling as their mother transformed lengths of fabric into dresses, shirts, pants, and skirts. They had been boys, trailing their hands across rolls of fabrics as they raced to find the very specific materials their mother sent them to bring back to her in an effort to familiarize them with the organization of her studio. They had been teenagers, drafting designs and making their own creations, learning to cut and pin and sew and glue from their mother and her designers. Now, they were college students, juggling the increasing demands and project expectations of their mother with essays, tests, and midterms.

He pinned the last fold of the skirt he was working on in place and reached across his small workstation for his coffee. He could not help but think of his mother and the way she had often done the very same thing as he and Hikaru stared in wide-eyed wonder. His younger sister, moody little Ageha, now saw across from him a small frown of concentration marring her pretty features as she used crayons to add color to one of the clothing sketches he had presented her with. Kaoru smiled faintly, knowing that Ageha would never admit to struggling to stay within the lines of the sketches. He also knew that Ageha was much too young to be drinking coffee. And that his mother would have his head if she ever found out that he had given her little girl coffee at such a young age. However, this did not discourage him from offering his sister coffee that day. After all, Ageha was almost six, the same age he had been when their mother had fist given him his fist mug of coffee.

 _Hikaru had fallen asleep. He always fell asleep. Didn't he want to see how their mother turned the soft green fabric they had been admiring earlier that day into a dress? For him, it was much more satisfying to see the change from lengths of fabric to dress than to simply be presented with the finished product. Hikaru didn't have the patience._

 _Their mother had long given up on asking him to go curl up in one of the cream colored armchairs with Hikaru. He wasn't sleepy, he protested through yawns, and she had accepted his answer with a raised eyebrow before turning back to her work. Now, he sat on a stool across from her, watching as she pinned the skirt in place. She would place a few pins in and drink from the delicious smelling coffee in her mug. He loved the smell. Couldn't wait until he was old enough to taste coffee. His mother had promised to let him try coffee when he was older. He had been thrilled, Hikaru had been less excited, complaining about having to wait and proclaiming that tea was better than coffee anyway._

 _She reached out for her coffee and brought it to her lips, only to find the mug empty. Kaoru flinched at the sight of his mother comically shaking out her red mug, afraid that a drop of coffee would fly out of the mug and stain the half-finished dress. "Kaoru," his mother asked, "would you like some coffee?"_

 _He nodded and followed his mother into her small office. He watched in fascination as she prepared the drink. Nescafe instant coffee and French vanilla creamer. She placed their drinks – her brimming red mug and his half-empty teacup – on the coffee table and pulled him onto her lap as she curled into one of the armchairs next to Hikaru._

After that, more nights were spent in a similar fashion. Hikaru would always fall asleep early and he and his mother would drink French vanilla coffee – and more often than not, tea, warm milk, or hot chocolate - as she worked.

Until they didn't.

He wasn't sure what had happened – an argument? His mother's refusal to admit she could tell him and Hikaru apart? His subsequent anger and frustration? Their father's increasing absences? A skirt he made a mess of? Whatever it was, the nights curled up in an armchair - or sitting on a stool across from his mother - and drinking French vanilla flavored coffee came to an end. And it wasn't until Haruhi that he tasted Nescafe instant coffee again. But it wasn't the same.

Haruhi's coffee was all wrong.

She didn't add French vanilla creamer. She didn't add milk. She didn't even add sugar.

Her coffee was harsh.

Bitter.

Blunt.

It lacked passion.

And so, he found himself handing Haruhi more than enough money, claiming it was from the club's budget, and asking her to buy as many French vanilla creamers and jars of Nescafe instant coffee as she could. She, in her usual fashion, had initially refused only to eventually give in and return to the club the next day, bags on coffee and creamer in her arms and a question in her eyes. He had thanked her, and taking the bags, had headed to the kitchenette to prepare himself a mug of coffee that way his mother had prepared them. Water, instant coffee, and creamer. Simple. Quick. Delicious.

Later, a few months after Ageha was born, he approached his tiered mother and wordlessly offered her the red mug held in his shaking hand. She had smiled and as she turned to leave back towards the now awake and crying Ageha, had said "Thank you Kaoru." She had taken the coffee and smiled. More importantly, she had called him by name for the first time in years. He stood there, shocked and overjoyed, until Hikaru called out to him, complaining about a dress Tamaki had commissioned they design for Haruhi.

Eventually, he and his mother fell back into the routine they had had when he was a child with the exception of Hikaru occasionally moving to join them on their late night coffee breaks. Now, it was Ageha who would curl up in one of the empty armchairs first, Hikaru joining her in dreamland not soon after. He would sit with his mother as they worked on a project, or talked about his older and younger sibling as they slept, or simply sat next to each other in companionable silence as they drank French vanilla flavored coffee.

Ageha wordlessly handed him the sketch, as she so often did. He smiled at his sister's efforts to remain within the lines, futile efforts of course, and at her color choices. The woman's long, straight hair was colored green; her blouse orange; her blazer, yellow; her capris stripped in brown, gray, and purple; and one of her pumps was black while the other was red. Ageha had signed her name in her uneven and uncertain little hand, and bellow that had addressed the image to what was a horrible mangling of the word brother and his name. "I love it," he complemented his sister, "she had a very interesting taste in clothing."

And then, gathering up his courage, asked, "Ageha, would you like some coffee?"

Thank you for reading. I hope you enjoyed the story.

As always, feel free to review, comment, and critique. You can also PM me if you'd like. Constructive criticism is always welcome.


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